A/N: This is a fill for a prompt over at the glee _ angst _ meme. Hope you enjoy it :).
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"HOW COULD YOU UNDERSTAND?" Quinn shouts at the top of her lungs, chest heaving. She shrinks into her herself and buries her face in her hands.
If she were being honest, every petty fight in the past couple weeks between her and Sam has been leading up to this. To her anger and frustration at the way he'd so obtusely told her that he 'understood' what she had gone through the previous year, with her pregnancy. Because he doesn't know; he doesn't know how hard it was, and what it felt like, and how ashamed she was. He doesn't how much she regrets having to give up her daughter, regrets not being prepared to raise another human being (even one that grew inside of her).
"You don't understand," she sobs, wrapping her arms around herself and leaning back against the wall. They're at her house, in her room (her mom isn't home), and God she just really wants him to leave now. She doesn't need him to see her like this. (She doesn't need him at all.)
Sam's brow furrows, and the anger drains out of his body. He hates fighting with her, but lately she keeps yelling at him, and he just kind of … yells back. It's stupid, and half the time he doesn't even know what they're fighting about. (Just like he really doesn't know what she's talking about right now …)
"You didn't disgrace everything you've ever believed in; you didn't watch as a stranger walked away with your own flesh and blood, knowing you'd never see your baby girl again; you didn't …" She stops because her sobs are too strong, and that's all she can choke out.
Sam's jaw goes slack (because now he knows what she's talking about).
He takes a tentative step forward, noting that – at the very least – she doesn't immediately take a swing at him. Taking a deep breath, he takes another step forward, wrapping her up in his arms and resting his chin on the top of her head. "Hey, Q, it's okay, I -"
But she's not having any of that. She shoves him away hard, furious, and swipes futilely at the tear tracks on her cheeks. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself, and looks him dead in the eye. "You can't possibly understand," she says with a firm conviction, "because you haven't been through what I have."
He shakes his head sadly, because if she only knew …
And that's it, he decides. She has to know. He hadn't really thought much about telling anyone in Lima – besides deciding to not tell anyone at all, for a while at the very least (Why had he moved besides escaping from everything, after all?), but this is more important – she's more important – than maintaining the clean slate he'd gained.
He digs in his pocket for his cell phone, ignoring her raised eyebrow and inquisitive look, scrolling through his picture until he finds the right one. He passes the phone to her silently, watching her ever-expressive eyes convey shock and deeper confusion.
Looking up at her from Sam's phone is quite possibly the most adorable little girl she's ever seen. Probably eighteen months old, the blonde's dressed in a pale pink dress, in stark contrast to the bright flower in her hair. Her mischievous, lopsided grin is one Quinn knows well … as are the deep hazel eyes. But she's not sure she's ready to accept the truth staring her in the face.
"What …?" she trails off quietly, looking up at Sam; he tries to ignore the few stray tears still dotting her beautiful face.
"Her name's Amanda; Mandy for short," he tells her, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking down. He doesn't know why he's scared of her reaction. It would be hypocritical for her to look down on him for this, but he can't seem to quell the instinctually protective reaction he's having to sharing the information.
"And she's- I mean you …"
"She's my daughter, yeah," he replies, looking up. Quinn's lips form an 'O', and she has the decency to look ashamed. An apology is on her lips when he cuts her off. "I was dating this girl, and she got pregnant – obviously – and, uh," he blushes, looking back down, "I told her I'd be there, that I wouldn't let her go through it alone … She said she wanted us to be a family." Quinn has to avert her eyes at that, because the first part rings a little too close to home for her comfort. (Not that anything about this has been comfortable.) "And we tried, but she just wasn't ready to be a mom, I guess. We lasted a year, about, before she'd reached her limit. She said sorry, packed a bag, and went back home; and a couple months later my family, Mandy, and I moved here.
"I may not have been pregnant myself, Quinn," he tells her more softly, "and I don't know exactly what it's like to have to give my baby girl away, but I do understand. Because I was terrified, too; I mean, all of a sudden there's this human being and you know she's going to rely on you for the rest of her life. And I understand, because every time I look in her eyes, I know it would kill me to give her away, even if was for the best."
His voice is so sincere, and her emotions are already hanging by a thread. He wraps her in his arms again, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear, because he does understand. He really does; and she was so stupid to just assume that he didn't, but for the first time in a long time she doesn't feel so alone.
An hour later, the tears have stopped. She's simply relishing the feel of his arms around her as they lay on her bed, when she asks, "Can I meet her?"
And Sam smiles softly, acquiescing; because he knows that she understands, too.
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